Mary and the Apostles

This morning while praying the rosary on the way to work, I was considering the relationship of Mary to the Apostles. When she stood at the foot of the cross, Jesus said to John, “There is your mother.” And to Mary, “there is your son.’

This passage has a depth of meaning I’m only beginning to understand. While we all know that in this, Jesus gave Mary not only to John, but to John as a representative of Himself [Jesus], and thus, making Mary the Mother of the Church. Here, though, I want to explore a little of the historicity and the spiritual depths relating to that which prior to this, I had not realized.

A little historical context

There was a very practical dimension to Jesus giving his Mother to John and John to His Mother; as Mary had no other children to care for her, and Joseph, tradition holds, had died, she would have been alone in the world. In that time and place, widows weren't exactly esteemed, and if they didn't have family, well...there's a reason the early Christians took an especial interest in widows and children.

God has a long long history of caring for the lowly; as Jesus taught, “the last shall be first.” In giving her to John, and John to her, He ensured that both would be cared for.

I realized that meant that, along with the other women who had followed the long tradition in the culture at that time of caring for their teachers, so Mary continued to care not only for John, and for the Apostles, she probably received in her motherly way any followers of Christ, her Son. Yet, by extension, while she walked the earth John and the Apostles would have had a special relationship with the Mother of the Lord. In realizing who HE was, they would have had a reverence for her probably not given to any other woman.

Although it's a topic for a different post, most people don't realize that true feminism was born out of the Judeo-Christian traditions that become plainly apparent in an honest reading of the Bible, both Old and New Testaments. The Apostles, having been three years in the company of Our Lord, having had exposure to His respect for women and His treatment of their history (for Jesus was, in fact, a Jew), would have recognized in Mary the preparation given to them through their ancient scriptures and the stories of Sarah and Hagar, Hannah, Judith, and Esther (among others!).

Knowing this led me into a greater consideration of the motherhood of priests. Mary's care for and concern for the Apostles and their reciprocating care for her is what I consider as a model for us all to follow. It is well known that Mary has a special relationship with Priests, a dimension that cannot belong to the laity. Each and every Priest, as he represents the priesthood of Christ, standing in His persona, is also a son of Mary in a way that extends beyond the depths of our own relationship with God as adopted sons and daughters.

This also made me reflect upon the relationship with Mary that belongs specifically to religious sisters. They are called as we all are, to imitate Christ. But in a special way, they are also called to imitate Mary as their perfect model, secondary to Our Lord.

Many Sisters I know have also sensed a calling within their vocation to especially apply their role as spiritual mothers to Priests. When I consider Mary and the Apostles, I can’t see how religious life could possibly NOT be also a Call to the spiritual motherhood of priests!

It’s historical. It’s traditional.

In the words of St. Thomas Aquinas and good philosophy, it's fitting!

Although I haven’t studied it in depth, I do know that throughout the history of the Church there has been some animosity between the priesthood and religious sisters. The early Dominican friars didn’t want to take time from preaching publicly to the need for spiritually caring for the cloistered contemplatives. As a result, Dominic and his successors found it necessary to intervene to explain that were it not for this powerhouse of praying women, their preaching ministry would not survive. In our very century, I know of Sisters who were badly treated by pompous priests who had no respect for them and treated them as indentured servants or worse.

Today, though, I can’t think of a single young (ie under 50) faithful religious Sister who has had an experience such as that, for things have changed in this regard, much for the better. In fact, the priests I know obviously have a great deal or respect and high regard for the religious sisters with whom they have contact, and vice versa. I realize that this relationship is one probably very much like that of Mary and the other women who cared for the Apostles through prayer and other types of material support that made it possible to evangelize the world. In turn, I see how priests seem always ready to also care for the needs of the various religious communities within their sphere of influence.

I will continue to ponder this for I have not yet plumbed the great depths of the Gospels, nor of the spiritualiy of Our Blessed Mother who has so much to show us. This semester I am taking a course in the history and doctrine of Mary and hope that my studies will, as she always does, bring me ever closer to Jesus. If there is anything I can do to bring you along with me, I will do so.

Please pray for Priests and women religious as the mirror of Mary and the Apostles so that we might all recognize in this mirror the reflection and importance of this spiritual reality to the entire Church.

Author's Note:
*There is a great deal more to the animosity and bad feelings of some religious sisters and priests than I have written and I do NOT intend this paragraph to be complete, nor is it completely accurate. As it's not the point of my post, please refrain from any combox diatribes, although I would welcome links to respectful and faithful scholarly articles fairly describing this reality.

Pondering Spiritual Motherhood

As the title indicates, I have been pondering spiritual motherhood. Lately, in prayer, and especially after having attended yesterday's Ordination Mass, my devotion to the Priesthood of Jesus Christ has been given a radical kick.

Yet…I don't really understand Motherhood. How can I? My mother was wonderful...for the first part of my life. And she's wonderful now, but our relationship has been very, very damaged. How, then, can I be a mother to anyone.

Last year, after a First Communion Mass I had coordinated, one of my catechists gave me a corsage. It was Mother’s Day and I protested to her that I’m not a mother as I am not married and have no children. I’m not deserving of the honor of a corsage. She disagreed, as did a couple of the parents of the children receiving the Sacraments; she called me a “spiritual mother” to them all. I was deeply, deeply touched, and humbled. In truth, this lady had helped me greatly in my first year in that parish and in truth, was far more a mother to me than I was to ANYONE!

What is Motherhood?

I’ve had to break it down: What does a mother do?

She loves. She sacrifices. She cares deeply for her children and will stop at nothing to be certain they have what they need. If they fall, she picks them up and brushes them off. If there are tears, she wipes them away. If they misbehave, she corrects them and sets them on their way.

Maybe most importantly, she lives her life as an example to them, and whether they realize it or not, they follow that example as they grow. They take on her practices, her gestures, and even if they don’t share her interests, they at least understand and support them as they grow into their own calling. But most importantly, if she sets a good example and treats them in accordance to live that example themselves…they grow up and reflect, in a way, her image.

I once had a teacher who, when some of my classmates misbehaved, would say, “You’re behavior is a reflection of your mother.”

That always gave us pause. How did we want our mothers to be seen?

Spiritual motherhood, then, isn’t the same as real-life motherhood, but the elements are there, and perhaps deepened in that mystical way only God understands. A spiritual mother cares for her spiritual children in unseen ways, in prayer and fasting, small sacrifices, and maybe even real-life encouragement or redirection when needed or if even possible. It’s a hidden type of motherhood, but just as important in the Mystical Body of Christ as any real motherhood would be.

Spiritual Mothers of Priests

Spiritual mothers of priests have additional concerns, although not in ways all that different from those of biological mothers. She prays that priests will be holy, that they will be conformed to Christ, have the humility to allow Christ to work through them in every moment, and will be good Fathers. She takes them as her sons by adoption, yet loving them as her own, just as Joseph loved Jesus as his own child.

She carries them with her in hear heart, pondering the Paschal Mystery, the Misterium Fidei, and the Priestood, knowing they are one and the same. She ponders deeply the needs of her Sons, understanding human nature, never in denial of that reality, even as she recognizes how we strive for holiness, and the importance for all that their spiritual Fathers, Priests, remain in a state of sanctity. Holy Priests create Holy People. It's a fact that cannot be denied.

And if one of those Priests should fall, she does not abandon him, but prays and sacrifices all the more so that he, like the Prodigal Son, might return home and be welcomed and celebrated by the Father.

She remains in the background, always implied, never seen, rarely recognized, few words spoken or recorded, and therin is her mystery and her necessity. Just as the Priest empties himself in order to stand in persona Christi, so does the spiritual mother empty herself in order to allow herself to be pierced with Divine Love and be so united with Christ at the foot of the Cross that she can lay down her own life for the Church.

It is a hidden sacrifice, and even if it is recognized formally, it remains in the mystical realm, completely following the scriptural silence of the Mother of Jesus who contemplated much, but revealed...very little. The few words she spoke pointed to Jesus and all that He did and would do.

Spiritual mothers try to be conformed to Christ as much as possible, through the guidance of Our Lady, and through her intercession and model, are also conformed to her in a special way. They also know, that like our Blessed Mother, they will be pierced with suffering and therefore united to Christ in His Passion.

To be a spiritual mother of priests is to enjoy a dignity not merited, not requested, and perhaps not desired. Yet...it is a calling. A Vocation within a Vocation. A hidden Vocation, for most of her sons will never know her, nor will she know them. Yet, once she has given her fiat, each and every time a Priest falls, she will be pierced, just as Our Sorrowful Mother was pierced through the depths of her soul as she followed Christ through His Passion and death on the Cross.

We look at scripture, and who remained at the foot of the Cross? The Mother of our Lord and other women, spiritual mothers united with Mary, devoted to Jesus, and their one remaining son, the Apostle John...the only one who did not flee. And incidentally, the one who outlived all the other Apostles for the good of the Church.

Could he have done this without the support of the Mother of God? Without the support of those women, who, even before Christianity, had a tradition of supporting and sacrificing for their teachers?

This weekend, I looked down at my hand, for I wore a ring given to me by my own Mother a few years ago as she can no longer wear it. It is a Mother's ring created out of Black Hills Gold: a rose with two leaves, symbolizing a mother and her two children. I've long felt weird wearing it, yet, finally, this weekend it made sense to me.

I will continue to ponder this and pray about it, and there is much left unsaid, which is as it should be. By no means is this post complete, and perhaps it will never be so.

What I DO know is this: we are all called to pray for our Priests and Bishops, we are all called to live out our Baptismal promises to spread the Gospel to all nations. But there are some who are set apart for certain roles.

Ladies...are YOU called to Spiritual Motherhood for Priests?

*

The Terror of Motherhood

Last Friday I attended a barbecue at a friend's home, an annual affair that included her large family and many friends. While I didn't know everyone there, I did know many, and each year, if I can I attend because, even though I'm single, I've never once felt "left out" of anything. Most of the attendees are families, and even as I sat at a table, I was much hugged and greeted by those just arriving, adults and children alike. At these gatherings, it never seems to matter if a few of us are single; we are made to feel like a part of their own family and so it's a comfortable place to be.

But there is one moment that I continue to ponder, and that makes me realize how much I need a Spiritual Director as I move on with my own vocational discernment.

One of my friends (who was at the barbecue) recently had a baby, a dear little girl, and I have now twice proudly held her, so happy for my friend! I have another friend who, maybe a year ago, lost her unborn little one, the first conception she was aware of although she's been married for several years now. She suffers from a genetic disease, nothing apparent from the outside, but I know that this disease concerns her for every pregnancy would be high-risk for her. I don't know how widespread is the knowledge of their loss, but on Friday, I couldn't help but remember her pain when someone commented that she and her husband were "the ones they were waiting for."

She didn't say anything, just smiled, and I know they want children, and I ached for her, knowing what she's suffered and what she fears. But she answered graciously if diminuitively, and from that point, my own thoughts wandered a bit.

Even as we observe the pain and the joys of our married friends, we as single people are on the margins. It is not that we don't revel in their wonders and grieve with them. Rather, it is that we are not a part of "the club". Any club. And as much as they do to make us feel like family, we as single people will always be on the outside looking in. It's the reality of our lives, simple as that. I'm neither happy nor sad, although maybe it seems a little bittersweet to me.

As others were joking with my friend about the child we are all waiting for, I happened to catch upon their wording. "you're the last one." I realized I wasn't even in the running. It wasn't that I was being ignored; far from it! I am not married, and this is a wonderful group of Catholic families, and we all believe the same thing; that children come after marriage. (To be certain, this group would also be supportive of unmarried mothers and rejoice in the children...we are also a VERY pro-life crowd!) . Yet, in the natural order of things, the banter with my friend was gentle, not demanding or rude. It was banter among friends, among married friends who know the lingo and the questions. And it was beautiful.

But it was a moment to be captured for me, as I realized I was not a part of it and may never be. I am an unmarried woman and I have a sense that no one will EVER ask me that question and I might never have a child of my own.

And I'm going to say something shocking..the idea isn't really that disturbing to me. Bittersweet...but I can't decide if it's more bitter or sweet.

Is the Past the Past?

As a little girl, I used to talk about what I would be like as a mother. I played with dolls, but as I got older, it wasn't babies I wanted, rather, I wanted to be a hero. My childhood fantasies were never about abandoning motherhood, although as I got older, I didn't think of motherhood; I thought of a career. Even as I began my working life by serving in child care and I did love children,I did not see myself as a mother. During college I worked in adolescent psych, and it was there that I decided motherhood was not for me; the kids there, from children (5 and up to around 23) were so messed up, and I got so beat up verbally, emotionaly, and physically in that job that I decided I would never have children.

I was terrified I'd mess them up just as much as those I served. And I think I hated the parents who had done so much to wreck the human beings they had brought into the world. I could not be something I hated.

But there was another dimension, something I haven't often voiced; the very idea of childbirth is abhorrent to me. It's awful. I'd rather be disembowled (even though the experience is similar). I'm not sure where this fear came from, but there it is. I had it LONG before I took an EMT class back in 1998 in which I cringed in my seat as we watched a few births. I was a puddle on the floor, and my instructor took note. I was otherwise a star student; give me anything, I could handle it...blood, guts, and eyeballs, I could give the textbook treatment. Give me the textbook births, I could cringe and recite the facts, but give me the reality...? That's what my instructor did as our class practiced scenarios. My fear was obvious to everyone. Mothers in the class tried to help me, to no avail...I decided that children and childbirth weren't worth it. Yet, I knew that one day I could be called upon to help a woman in labor; I knew I needed the facts but I never wanted the experience.

And yet...I belived, even though I wasn't a practicing Catholic, that children were a gift. I believed in life. Even as I practiced death, both professionally and personally in my relationships.

For awhile, there was a man I thought I wanted to marry, and I was at my turning point; I knew I was Catholic and wanted to come Home. That also meant that I wanted to be married in the Church, and I had to be "open to life". I was struggling with a number of issues, and my boyfriend was not interested in going to church, although he was interested in learning about what I believed. I think God used him to help me in my own questions, and made me ask...am I willing to give in to my greatest fear in order to live life with this man I think I love?

I decided I'd have a child with and for him, and trust God to get me through it. Because, rationally, woman have been doing this for millenia...who was I to have such a stupid fear?

Yet it was not to be...not with him, maybe not ever.

When I returned to the Church, for a short time I had a Spiritual Director, and while I never confessed my DEEPEST fears, I did share with him my hesitancy about children, around the time I confessed I thought I was called to religious life.

This priest told me that one must be called to motherhood and religious life both; meaning that good Sisters and Nuns are ALSO good mothers. You can't hate children and be a good mother to anyone. You can't hate children and be a good priest. It was across the board; he wasn't picking on me.

And his words have not left me. I still wonder about them. I've grown, and no, I don't hate children. I think they're wonderful. And the idea of labor...well, it's not pleasant, but knowing about redemptive suffering helps a great deal.

Yet...I don't think I'm called to motherhood. I have a sense that I will never be married, but I'm not sure I'm called to religious life, either. I look at different communities and consider their lives, especially given that I work in a church. But none of it attracts me. This afternoon I realized that I love my solitude, yet it doesn't fulfill me.

I love the idea of marriage and being married, and I'm willing to accept all that goes with marriage. But I have to wonder if I'm still romanticizing marriage? I know that our lives here are only temporary. There is no marriage in Heaven.

Yet, then I consider religious life; nothing really attracts me. I am attracted, like marriage, to the IDEA of religious life, and think it beautiful. Yet it still involves something foreign to me; life with other people; people you can't get away from. And maybe assignments that one cannot refuse.

The community I visited for prayer and do intend to visit for a weekend could send me to a parish or a school or a nursing home...and I won't have a say in where I go. Will I be happy? Knowing that, really, I'm not fulfilled even where I am? Am I too set in my ways? Am I fit for such a life? Can I be obedient or has my life of survival-oriented philosophy destroyed my ability to conform to a community of any sort?

I'm in a tough position...I like children, but I don't feel that "biological clock" ticking away. Just a small sadness that no one will ever ask to see my child. And I look at religious life, rapidly passing me by as more and more communities are eliminated the older I get, and I hear the echo of the priests words; that I must be a Mother even to be a Sister.

Does my lack of desire for motherhood destroy the potential vocation to consecrated life?

The odd thing is, that in vocational discernment, one knows they are giving up one thing for another. I'm giving up nothing, and it's paralyzing me.

I have nothing to sacrifice.

It's not a sacrifice to give up motherhood when I don't really feel called to it and haven't since I was a child and considered it the only option in life.

It's not a sacrifice to give up religious life when I'm not sure it's where I belong, anyway, or if I could handle it.

It's not a sacrifice to give up the single life, because I don't live it like "Sex in the City" anyway, and I don't think I'm fulfilled in this state even as I do live it out. I don't at all feel called to be a "Consecrated Virgin". And don't mention Regnum Christi..I won't discuss it.

Yet this year, I was told I was a mother, by a woman who is a grandmother. And in the next moment, congratulated by a mother with a few of her own, for the children I don't have but "might" in the future.

What's really sad is that I know my agony is not my own; it doesn't belong to me. It belongs to an entire collective of disenfranchized women who have grown up in an atmosphere of hatred towards motherhood, hatred of holiness, and hatred of anything other than self-fulfillment through temporal means.

I haven't found happiness in this world, it doesn't exist in this world, and yet...we know we belong in this world because God brought us into being. How can we find where we really belong? We are not a sum of our dysfunctional families, but as I pointed out to a Sister I spoke with today...how do we know God's will when the foundation He established has been destroyed for so many of us? How do we know where we belong when nothing seems to fit?

How do we answer a call we can't hear because we don't know the language?

How can we overcome cultural indoctrination that has destroyed the foundation that is supposed to build us up?

*

Can you hear the echoes of the culture of fragmented family reverberating between the walls of objective reality? Is it any wonder so many souls have been and continue to be shattered by a culture that seeks only itself to the detriment of our own humanity?

I'm a Mother!

Today I celebrated my first Mother's Day.

Yes, really. And quite unexpected.

Last night, although I didn't get much sleep for some reason, I did have a few dreams and in one of them, I had a baby. Most of the details of the dream remain hidden from me, but I woke up with some sense of motherhood, of having a little one of my own, with both the joy and terror at the very idea.

I had to work today, more First Communions, and just before Mass one of my volunteers (a REALLY IMPORTANT one, an expert, without whom I would be lost) gave me a corsage and a rose. Before I could object she said, "I know you don't have children of your own, but we're all your children. You mother me!"

This, from a woman who could be my grandmother, and of course, who mothers ME all the time!

One of the teachers from the school, who really is a mother, also received a corsage from the volunteer, and she told me, "Well...you're a mother to the parents...!"

And yes, she's right. But I never considered this to be a day to celebrate spiritual motherhood, and I even have a hard time wrapping my mind around that concept. I don't feel like a mother, and yet, a great deal of my job is to serve as a mother somehow.

Then, at Mass, when Father gave the blessing for mothers, while priority was of course given to REAL mothers, he also mentioned spiritual motherhood, and I realized he was talking about people like me, and how blessed I really am to be in such a position. And how terrifying it is. Because such an idea comes with responsibilities. And yet, after this year of preparing the sacramental class, I have more understanding of why parents are so strict with their "firsts", and why it's so awful when they work so hard to plan something...and it goes wrong. Because the smallest details are important.

This weekend, with the First Communions, some things went wrong in the organization, someone wasn't listed who was supposed to be there, likely my error, possibly the parent's, and that just lead to a discovery of more problems. But the most important things worked out, the details that could work out did work out, and if it weren't for the women helping me who found it necessary to be my mothers today, I have no idea how it could have worked.

Father's homily today discussed the gifts of the Holy Spirit and how necessary all of us are to the Body of Christ. We all have gifts, we all have something to offer. And what a lesson, which comes home to me in so many different ways, especially today!

Even after Mass, many of the parents (most of whom know I do not have children) wished me a "Happy Mother's Day" and applied it to my children in the future.

They don't know that I'm considering religious life, or of course, that I may never get married and have my own. So in some ways I'm a little sad at that thought, almost like I'm betraying them. Yet, if I enter consecrated life, I WILL be a spiritual mother to countless children.

In some ways I'm sad; my own Mother isn't even asking my brother and I anymore when we're going to get married and give her grandchildren. And she really wants grandchildren, but I think she may be resigned to the fact they may never appear. This disappointing idea is not new to her.

My Mom came from a very large family and was the youngest when her mother died. She became a big sister when Grandpa remarried, so always knew the importance of family. When she herself got married, she wanted children so badly! But the doctor told her that she could never have children...she was completely brokenhearted.

Then Mom got pregnant with my brother, and then with me. My brother arrived into the world in 1972, and I arrived in 1974. No children for Mom, indeed! God always triumphs over the world's follies. Yet she still suffered; she was pregnant with me in 1973 when Roe v. Wade passed, and people would approach her in places like the grocery store and say to her, "People like you shouldn't have children!"

Why would anyone say anything so hurtful? Because Mom was born with only one hand. And she dared to become a mother.

My mother suffered greatly through that era and to bring me into the world, and she suffered unspeakably throughout my life.

Motherhood by necessity involves suffering. I don't feel deserving of the title today, especially considering my own mother.

I sure do hope that, before she leaves for eternity, that she will be assured of my status in this life, either married or safely within consecrated life (or at least well on the way towards one or the other!). But for now, I don't deserve the title to which she has given so much dignity. I can't compare to a real mother, and I don't want to. I'm not ready. But I'm willing to accept that one way or another, I'm in the wings.

Congratulations and THANK YOU to all of you Mothers out there! Know that when you think you are least appreciated, you are living out your most powerful moments. God Bless You!